Jesus Isn't Coming Back
The last few months have been really triggering for me as my Facebook feed has been flooded with images of ...
Violence.
Unrest.
Bloodshed.
Bombings.
War.
... In Israel, Palestine, etc. And it's been triggering because I grew up in a conservative Evangelical environment where the smallest noise or whisper of trouble involving Israel generated a sick and twisted excitement among my tribe.
Why?
Because (it was assumed, and ingrained in my head from an early age) that unrest in Israel would open up the doors of heaven and initiate the long-awaited Second Coming of Jesus.
There was a string of what seemed like a thousand Bible verse that were used to prove it, too. I heard about them in ...
Bible classes.
Church services.
Chapel services.
Sunday School.
... Verses from Revelation and Daniel and Matthew and Jeremiah and Ezekiel and Romans. Verses that "foretold" destruction and unrest and the ways in which God's anger and wrath would be provoked at the sight of anyone mistreating his Chosen People, Israel.
War, we were taught, is pretty terrible on the outside, but yet really, really good too because it means that in the midst of the bloodshed and sadness and fear and turmoil, Jesus would return and rapture his people away.
Everyone who wasn't a Christian, though.
Everyone who didn't believe like we did.
Everyone who didn't pray like we did.
Everyone who didn't read the Bible like we did.
... They would all be "left behind" while the rest of us were lifted from the earth and given the Golden Ticket to heaven.
As a kid I can remember having nightmares that I had been "left behind" or, worse, that I was given a Golden Ticket but my family wasn't and so I would wake up in a cold sweat thinking about what it would be like to float away to heaven while my ...
Mom.
Dad.
Grandma.
Aunt.
Uncle.
... Were left behind to burn with the rest of the world.
I began to wonder if I'd be happy in heaven. Or if I'd feel joy. Did I even want to go there? Everyone told me that heaven was this magical place where everyone smiled and worshipped Jesus 24/7. There were no problems, no sadness, no worry, no fear - just pure, 100% bliss.
BUT.
How?
Right?
My young mind couldn't imagine how I would be happy if my whole family was being tortured on earth, and I couldn't imagine how I'd have the desire to worship a Divine Being that didn't lift a finger to stop it.
And so I poured myself into evangelism and put immense pressure on myself to make sure that my mom, my dad, my grandma - my whole family - had said "the sinner's prayer" and that they were "saved". I told them about heaven and hell and I told them about Jesus's second coming and the rapture, and I did my best to pitch the salvation story again and again and again not so much because I cared if they "accepted Jesus into their heart", but because I was deathly afraid of spending eternity alone.
And so over these last few months I’ve found my mind racing as my Facebook feed was flooded with images of what's been going on with Israel and Palestine.
My insides shook a little.
A younger version of myself began to cower.
I was feeling irritable.
Annoyed.
Afraid.
I wondered, "what if I'm wrong?"
"What if I do get left behind?"
"What if I'm responsible for others getting left behind?"
The nightmares didn't come back, thankfully, but the day terrors did as I'd find myself on occasion thinking back on school and church and Bible studies where we were threatened with Jesus' return, threatened that he'll come like a thief in the night, and warned that when he does show up he better not find me sinning because he's gonna take all the bad things I ever did and put them on a giant movie screen for the whole universe to watch.
Phew.
As the younger version of myself would come out of hiding and remind present day me of all of these things that he was taught, I found myself having to listen to him and then patiently put things in perspective for him.
Because there's a younger version of ourselves in all of us, you know? Your inner child lives in your heart and mind. He or she or they ... they're part of your life, attached to your soul. And whenever you feel insecure or scared or worried or overwhelmed ... it's likely not because there's something wrong with you and it's not because you need to grow up or move on or whatever.
Rather.
It's because there's a small you inside who is crying out for help and trying to get your attention in any way that he/she/they can.
And so as little Glenn reminded me about ...
The Second Coming.
The wars in Israel.
The talk about a thief in the night.
The rapture.
Being left behind.
... I found myself picking him up and putting him on my knee and reminding him that there's no reason for Jesus to come back because Christ is already here.
"Listen little man", I said. "We were given some pretty whacky information, we were sold some really terrible ideas and were made to fear. But, here's the thing. I'm gonna shoot it straight with you. Jesus was crucified. He was dead. He was buried. On the third day he rose again. Whether that really happened or not … I don’t know. What I do believe, though, is that God has sent his Spirit, the Spirit of the Christ, to live in us and around us, and to empower us to be more like him, more like her ... not so that Jesus can come back and take us to heaven, but so that we can make this world a little more like heaven each and every day. Heaven isn't up there, but it's right here - it's in us and it's around us - and Christ has come to help us open the door of our hearts not so that we can let heaven in, but so that we can let heaven out with our words, with our deeds, with our whole lives. Jesus isn't coming back, Christ is already here."
And slowly, as I remind little Glenn of these new ideas that seem foreign to both of us, the clouds begin to lift and the fog begins to clear. The fear seems less. The baggage seems lighter.
I hope it gets lighter for you, too.
Much love.
Glenn